


Bring the Stars to You

by WordsFromAsh



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, after the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsFromAsh/pseuds/WordsFromAsh
Summary: Rhys is always there to help Feyre with her nightmares night after night. He has his own, she knows. He has his own which he tries to keep to himself so as not to disturb her as she sleeps. If that's what he wants then fine, but it doesn't mean she still can't find a way to help him cope.





	

I was in the middle of cleaning my brushes when I heard the front door click open and closed downstairs. For a moment, I thought it could be Mor coming to check in on my progress and inevitably ask for an early dinner somewhere in Velaris before the boys returned from their weekend at the cabin. Then I heard Rhys call my name.

I bit my tongue to keep from cursing. Either he was home early, or I had lost track of more time than I realized. Based on my track record, I was going with the latter.

I twisted off the tap and flicked the excess water from the brushes I’d been rinsing. I leaned back and looked into our bedroom, making sure I had magicked away all the tarps, the ladders, and the makeshift scaffolding, before I called down the bond to him: _In the bedroom_.

With a snap of my fingers, the rest of the brushes were thoroughly rinsed and dried. I gathered them in my hand and let a bit of magic clean the paint residue out of the sink as well, before I stalked out of the bathing room and towards my usual working station in the corner.

I just closed the case to my brushes when two arms wound around my waist and I was pulled gently back against Rhys’s chest. It was second nature to lean my head back against him and settle my arms over his. I smiled. He was home.

 

He buried his nose into my hair and it didn't take long before he greeted me with, "You smell like fresh paint."

“And _you_ smell of alcohol." And the crisp air found only in the mountains mixed in with his usual intoxicating scent, but there was no fun in pointing that out.

Rhys snorted before he pulled away and I turned around to get a good look at him. He looked worse for wear from his weekend of drinking. His eyes weren’t as sharp as usual and he had an general weariness hanging off him despite his casual smile. So it surprised me when it was _Rhys_ who asked _me:_ “You slept and ate, right?”

“Probably more than you did,” I said. Rhys simply raised an amused brow. “And Mor made sure I did.”

Mor had insisted on checking in on me regularly to make sure I had company and ensure that I didn’t get too invested in painting to not take care of myself. And never once did she inquire for the details as to _why_ I was doing what I was doing, which I would forever appreciate. Rhys would, too.

“Did _you_ eat and sleep?” I said and quirked my own brow at him.

He nodded his head and immediately stopped. He rubbed his temple and closed his eyes tighter. After a prolonged moment where he recollected himself, he said, “More drinking than anything else, but yes, those, too.”

I hummed, not at all surprised. The three brothers were terrible influences on each other when the rest of us were around to supervise, but alone? I couldn’t imagine even as Mor had had a wonderful time filling me in on some stories that she managed to get from them about some of their past weekends. All I had known for certain was there were only two ways Rhys would return home to me and that was either with a hangover or still drunk, and it looked like I was in the presence of the former.

I released a bit of magic and had a kettle of water heating on the stove below.

“Also,” Rhys continued. He opened his eyes and blinked several times, readjusting to the light. Even after that he still squinted. Headaches. Headaches were always his most notable hangover side-effect. “You should know that Cassian put a mustache underneath Amren’s eyes you painted. He plans to blame it on Az.”

I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t the first instance of someone defacing those eyes and it wouldn’t be the last, but most avoided doing so to Amren’s just on the basis that it was Amren. “Does he really think she’ll believe that?”

Rhys only grinned before he grew distracted and his attention slid slowly to my empty easel. He frowned at it, but instead of asking what I thought he would, he merely said, “So are you finished with your recent masterpiece? I’ve missed my amazing mate and want to know how much of your attention I have.”

I nodded, making sure I kept my eyes on him and not let them drift to the ceiling. “I can show you, if you want. But first, I have water already boiling for some tea and you should take some tonic for that hangover. Then you can have all my attention that you want.”

How much of his attention I had was the real question. It looked as if he would fall asleep as soon as he had a chance to lay down. Mother only knew he needed that sleep. I already planned on letting him sleep late tomorrow. Any immediate duty I could see to myself tomorrow morning.

“Not just amazing, you’re a Cauldron-sent blessing, Feyre.” He leaned against me and settled his forehead on my shoulder. His arms hung loose around me and I held in a laugh.

I slipped my arms beneath his to help hold the weight that gradually leaned more into me. I tilted my head to the the side so it would rest against his. My fingers brushed through his hair. “Yes, well, the Cauldron had to bless someone to keep up with you. You’re just lucky it was me.”

Rhys mumbled something against me that I couldn’t quite make out. It could have been a sarcastic quip as easily as it could have been a compliment, possibly both at once. I didn’t push for it though as we fell into a comfortable silence.

After three days of painting I could feel my own exhaustion creep up on me. If Rhys went to bed, I would gladly join. Sleep would come easy tonight for the both of us.

And then the kettle screamed downstairs.

We both started at the sound, jumping apart. I grabbed my chin that Rhys had knocked into.  Rhys held his head and hissed out a “Sorry”, which I waved off. I’d had worse. Immediately after, Rhys did a sloppy flick at his wrist and just like that the kettle fell silent, plunging us into quiet again.

It was Rhys who ended up breaking it after we had collected ourselves from our mishap.

“Well, that ruined the mood.”

I turned my head to look at him. My mouth twitched into a smile that wanted to be a laugh. “The mood? And what mood was that? You were practically falling asleep on me.”

He gave me a look that was supposed to be amused, maybe even an attempt at seductive, but it was eclipsed by the tension of the headache. “I was appreciating you.”

“Well if you’re done _appreciating_ me,” I said. “Then I’ll go get that tea and _you_ take that tonic.”

I only managed a step past him before he snatched my wrist and soon enough I found myself back in his arms. “Rhys.”

“I’m not done, though.” He mumbled. “You’re much better than tea and tonic.”

“ _Rhys_ ,” I tried again, but his grip only tightened and he parroted my name in the same tone I used for his.

“Just stay, please. You and sleep are all I need.”

It was a lie, but if he wanted to be childish and insist sleep and I were all he need then—“Fine,” I huffed. Satisfaction rippled through the bond from him to me. “But first I need to show you the painting first.”

“I would love for that. Where is it?”

I didn’t answer. I just freed an arm from his grip and waved towards the curtains, drawing them shut and placing a glamour over them. No longer did they let in a sleepy haze of light, but they blocked out the evening sun completely and covered the entire room in a cool, comfortable darkness.

“While I appreciate the darkness I… don’t… I— _oh_.”

I watched quite pleased as Rhys’s expression went from furrowed brow confusion to something akin to childlike wonder. He stepped away from me and his fingertips trailed off my skin, raising goosebumps.

Then I followed his slack-jawed gaze up to the thousands of stars that now graced the entirety of our bedroom ceiling. They glowed softly in the dark, forming a full galaxy above us. My eyes scanned them all, a mixture of pride and happiness and love settling into my chest. It turned out better than I thought it would.

“I wanted to surprise you,” I said softly. “Mor convinced you all to leave for the weekend so I could have enough time to create this. It’s a special kind of paint that only appears in the dark.”

Rhys stopped his slow turn and dropped his gaze from the stars to me. The awe had not yet left his face. If anything, it seemed to grow as he looked at me. The tension and tiredness was temporarily washed away leaving him to look as refreshed and revived as one of our night flights left him. “You made this? For _me_?”

The awe and disbelief over whether this was for him. He deserved so much more. More than I could ever give. “Of course,” I whispered.  Always and anything for him.

I stepped beside him. Our arms brushed against one another and took his hand in mine. He looked at me, eyes still wide and beseeching. It was hard to tell in the calm darkness, but it looked like his eyes were lined with tears. “Why?”

“Because,” I swallowed, not sure how to bring up why I did it for him, but knowing I had to. I glanced at the stars above for strength. “Because I wake up to your nightmares sometimes and I know I can help you then. But I also know you keep most of them from me and go them alone.”

He gripped my hand tighter and whether he meant to or not, he pulled my attention back to him. He had lost a little bit of the awed wonder and looked more anguished to hear that I knew this about him. His throat bobbed when he swallowed.

“Feyre,” he whispered and while it sounded like he had more to say, nothing else followed. He was at a loss of words, too, then.

I brushed my thumb across the back of his hand and gave him a small, but hopefully reassuring, smile. “You don’t need to explain. I understand. I just wanted to help you in some way more since you always help me.”

I looked past him to a constellation that was only visible within our court’s brilliant skies and now on our ceiling. I remembered when he had showed it to me, tracing the shape with his finger while he whispered its story to me like a secret known only to us. It was during one of those nights immediately after the war when nightmares were inevitable and so we spent our time flying, talking about the future on rooftops and balconies, stargazing—anything that would keep us from the clutches of sleep and the lurking terror.

“So, I thought back to when I was in Spring. I’d wake up from the nightmares there and I’d search for the stars. I never felt like I was alone if I was looking at them. They made me feel safe and comforted. They reminded me of home and more importantly of you and I would feel better even if things weren’t better.”

I could feel him staring at me, at these confessions as I continued to stare up at our painted sky. While he hid the majority of his nightmares, I hid the majority of my time spent spying in Spring. I preferred not remembering those days and Rhys never pried for them.

He squeezed my hand again in support.

I squeezed back.

There, near the first constellation, was the Huntress. That one was nothing significant, known even on the mortal side of the wall, but Rhys had taken a liking to that cluster of stars saying it reminded him of me. I stared at it as I contemplated what to say next. My eyes traced the bow and arrow within the constellation then dropped to find Rhys’s gaze. My two violet North Stars that would always point me home. “I know we have the balcony and the real sky just a few steps away, but I thought if I bring the stars to you and th—“

I wasn’t prepared for him to kiss me nor the passion and emotion behind it. At some point, I felt moisture fall on my cheek and when we finally broke away, I saw why. The tears that had previously lined Rhys’s eyes fell now making slow trails down his face. I reached up and brushed my fingers across his cheek, smudging one of those wet trails. This wouldn’t help his pushed-aside headache.

His hand settled on top of mine, pressing it flat against his cheek. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you, Feyre. It’s perfect. _You_ are perfect.”

I rolled my eyes at his words. I was far from perfect, but my heart swelled knowing that he loved it. I was positive he could feel it on his side of the bond it felt so strong.

Rhys looked incredulously at me. “You went out of your way and brought me the sky, Feyre. The _sky._ You accomplished what exists only in song and prose….” He ducked his head close to mine. “Though I’ll let you in on a secret, Feyre Darling. While this will help, you should know you have always helped me through the nights.”

I pulled back from him and seeing my doubt, he continued with a smile, “When I wake from my nightmares, I look to you. Seeing the steady rise and fall of your chest. Feeling the warmth of you next to me. Hearing your heartbeat and knowing you’re alive and with me and able to experience a full night’s sleep in peace. You ground me, Feyre.”

“That’s _nothing,_ Rhys,” I said. Sleeping. Existing. That was nothing to commend me for. Not when he held back my hair, sat with me on the cold tile floor, and patiently waited for me to clean up and pull myself back together on my worse nights. Compared to him….

“That’s _everything,”_ Rhys said. He cupped my face in his hands and angled it up to his. He gave me a quick peck against the lips before resting his forehead against mine. “Because _you_ , Feyre, already are my stars.”


End file.
